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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496862">Yayoi doesn’t understand. Yayoi wants to understand.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente'>Quente</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Given (Anime), Given (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cultural baggage about gayness and having kids, F/M, M/M, Siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:20:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are sketches in her book that are a little unformed. One page is a series of thumbnails of two boys standing beside each other -- one turning his head to look at her, one with his head down. They lean close, the lines of their bodies speaking of trust, of nurture, of support.</p><p>But Yayoi can’t draw what she sees, the fondness in those eyes; it’s her little brother, after all. So the picture remains faceless except for when the expression shutters closed, guarded, head turning in her direction.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uenoyama Yayoi/Yatake Kouji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yayoi doesn’t understand. Yayoi wants to understand.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yayoi has her art. Pages and pages and books and books of it, the delineation of her dreams and an attempt to put the world into some kind of order. Art makes sense: captured on the page it can’t move away from her, or transform into a shape she can’t understand. </p><p>Like her brother, for instance, sitting beside Satou at the kitchen table one morning, both of them quiet from sleep and about to go to school. There’s something about the moment -- Ritsuka looking sideways, passing the shoyu before Satou asks for it -- and Yayoi realizes that his eyes are just so soft.</p><p>All Yayoi’s life he’s been an ordinary little brother with a side of guitar nerd, seeming to be disinterested but always silently and loyally beside her. That one small look has her worried, a pang striking her heart because her little brother just doesn’t know, does he? How cruel the world can be to anyone different, to anyone who doesn’t excel at being the best ordinary that there is.</p><p>And so she asks him later that day, walking to the living room and finding him on the couch. “You like that kid, don’t you?”</p><p>He’s staring at his phone, doing who knew what. Band planning? Chatting with Akihiko about practice times, or maybe his friends at school about homework? Game? Such a kid, and yet.</p><p>“Shuddup. So what?”</p><p>“It’s weird. It’s unnatural. You’re probably going to get hurt.” </p><p>“Guess so,” he replies, his voice implying that he really, truly doesn’t care for her take on his life just then. </p><p>And more than any defensiveness, Ritsuka’s answer stops her in her tracks. It was mature, wasn’t it? The full acceptance that being gay would indeed hurt him someday.</p><p>Yayoi doesn’t understand. Yayoi wants to understand.</p><p>~</p><p>She tells it to Yatake-kun at some point, on one of their long dates that are so relaxed they never feel like dates, and so lacking in pressure that Yayoi never feels at risk.</p><p>“I probably hurt him worst, and first,” Yayoi says, and her voice gets softer as she admits it to herself. She feels shame -- and then feels Yatake’s hand in her hair, touching a lock of it.</p><p>“Did you learn from it?” Yatake’s voice is as gentle as his words are blunt.</p><p>Yayoi leans into the touch, lets her eyes close, chasing the feeling inside as it winds through a lifetime of memories. Rikka, the toddler always wanting to play with her toys. Rikka, the day he was given a guitar.</p><p>“I want to support him with all my heart. I want to protect him, too. But I think I know which is more important.”</p><p>“I understand that desire to protect someone. But -- he’s met someone who suits him, don’t you think? I’m not saying there won’t be issues. There always are when you’re in a band with your lover. But. If those two geniuses don’t kill each other along the way, what they have could be strong.”</p><p>Yatake stands with his back against the railing overlooking the canal, the light from the street lamp catching in the glossy dark of his hair, obscuring one of his glasses lenses.</p><p>He’s handsome. Not in the same way as Akihiko. Yatake is much dorkier with much less sheer charisma, but at the same time Yayoi can tell that he has a clear and steady confidence -- the sexiest part of him.</p><p>“You’re distracted by something,” Yatake notes.</p><p>Yayoi blushes but keeps her eyes on Yatake. “By you,” she admits, and sidles half a step closer to him, continuing to look with an artist’s gaze.</p><p>He meets her stare unflinching, a smile dimpling the corner of his mouth. “Can’t say I dislike that,” he says, and leans down toward her just a touch.</p><p>“I think I’d like to draw you,” she says.</p><p>~</p><p>There are sketches in her book that are a little unformed. One page is a series of thumbnails of two boys standing beside each other -- one turning his head to look at her, one with his head down. They lean close, the lines of their bodies speaking of trust, of nurture, of support.</p><p>But Yayoi can’t draw what she sees, the fondness in those eyes; it’s her little brother, after all. So the picture remains faceless except for when the expression shutters closed, guarded, head turning in her direction.</p><p>~</p><p>“Have you ever been interested in men?” Yayoi asks, looking up from her sketch. She’s got the bones down now, needs to fill in the rest. She’s thinking of the mood, thinking maybe she’d do it again it in watercolor. There’s something about his strength that she likes, that her fingers can sketch around.</p><p>As always, when she’s drawing, her thoughts are flowing too. So she asks stuff she normally wouldn’t -- there’s no filter. It’s honest, like the shape on the page.</p><p>Yatake chokes, then freezes, and Yayoi finds it adorable that he’s still keeping as still as he can for her.</p><p>They are in the studio that Yatake rents with his band. It’s a basement, but there’s good light from a high window, and it hits his hair in a way that makes the black glossy samurai topknot seem nearly heroic. </p><p>Yatake has his bass in his hands and he’s going through some exercises while she draws, a slow back-and-forth crawl of the low bass notes like lazy raindrops.</p><p>“You don’t pull your punches, do you?” He breaks his pose to push his glasses up on his nose.</p><p>“I’m still trying to figure it out,” Yayoi admits, biting her lip and letting her face fall back to her sketch, hair hiding her blushing cheeks. “I’ve taken biology, I know sexuality is a spectrum. But...I guess we get it hammered into us, right? That if we don’t have a family, have kids, the relationship is all for nothing.”</p><p>Yayoi could go into it all -- words from her family about children, history classes that stressed falling birth rates, old relatives talking about continuing their family name. <i>You’re so pretty, Yayoi. You’ll get a good man</i>. Maybe it was the type of pressure men didn’t get as often, growing up? She didn’t know.</p><p>“You want kids?” Yatake asks, and now his cheeks are pink too.</p><p>“You haven’t answered my question, Ya-kun,” Yayoi says, smiling. “But yeah, I do. It’s not because people want me to though. I grew up taking care of my little brother because our parents worked so much, and … he was a good kid. I liked helping him grow. I want one of my own someday.”</p><p>Yatake nods. “I guess we all think it’s the default, right? Wanting kids. But it’s not, is it. A-anyway. I think I’ve felt <i>that way</i> maybe once or twice in my life?”</p><p>Yayoi can tell he’s thinking about something, someone.</p><p>“But not strongly enough that I’d ruin our friendship over it, or...stop being into women.”</p><p>“Had a lot of girlfriends?” Yayoi tilts her head.</p><p>“The usual number. A few. I’m twenty four, after all.” Yatake is blushing now, full on, and grinning too. “I like how blunt you are, honestly. You aren’t searching my social media or anything, you just ask.”</p><p>“Some people hate it,” Yayoi says. “And there was a time I tried to be all cute and shy to get a guy. But being someone I’m not just doesn’t work, so I’ll settle for being difficult and seeing if the guy I like can measure up.”</p><p>Yatake’s fingers pick back up on his bass, and he looks at her with that warm expression she’s getting kind of addicted to.</p><p>“Well. It works for me,” he says.</p><p>~</p><p>Later, Yayoi stares at what she’s drawn. It’s a tall, solid figure seated on a high stool, shoulders broad and expression concentrated, one foot on the floor and the other hooked over the bottom rung of the chair. His head is lowered, light striking his hair from a high angle.</p><p>Yayoi can’t quite get his fingers right. They are long and slender and capable, one hand sliding up and down the neck of the bass, one plucking at the strings. He showed off a little for her, Yayoi thinks, remembering the swift cascade of deep notes. But in motion, a blur.</p><p>Maybe she’ll just keep them blurry, or draw ten hands on the instrument.</p><p>She’ll have to ask Rikka to tell her some songs with long bass riffs, something she can ask for next time they hang out.</p><p>~</p><p>A few days later, sitting on a bench outside of the art department of the university, Yayoi doesn’t really want to think about that car ride out to Gunma, or Yatake’s best friend and fellow bassist, Nakayama Haruki. </p><p>Clutching a vendo coffee to keep her hands warm in the cool morning, Yayoi tries to think of something else, but fails. </p><p>It was awkward. Yayoi was blunt, and maybe she said too much. </p><p>But it was as though all of her feelings had gotten the better of her, that day -- especially after being told by Akihiko that he, too, was dating a guy now.</p><p>
  <i>Was there something in the water?</i>
</p><p>No. Yayoi takes a breath and admits it to herself: it was probably true that if you had someone you shared a passion with, that deeply, it was almost obvious to share other kinds of passion too. And from the very first live, she’d known how Akihiko felt about Nakayama.</p><p>It is still a blow to her pride. She can win beauty pageants and art scholarships, but she absolutely doesn’t have a penis. And as a result she’d been passed by.</p><p>And then she feels a warm body slide up beside her on the bench and lean in.</p><p>“Hey.” </p><p>Yayoi blinks sideways and smiles. “You saved me again, you know.”</p><p>“I thought maybe you’d be thinking about it.” And without another thought, Yatake’s arm is around her shoulders, pulling her close. “So I thought I’d give you someone else to think about.”</p><p>And then, Yatake’s lips are touching her hair, softly.</p><p>“It’s morning.” Yayoi says, blushing.</p><p>“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” Yatake is close, though, still leaning down, and Yayoi can’t resist.</p><p>She leans up and presses the tiniest of kisses to his nose.</p><p>“I’ll be at your show tonight.”</p><p>“Do you want extra tickets?”</p><p>Yayoi hesitates, and then nods.</p><p>“Three. I’ll ask Rikka to come. And...and Satou.”</p><p>“Ahh.” Yayoi feels herself suddenly turned and squished in Yatake’s arms.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Just think you’re wonderful.” </p><p>Yayoi hides her expression in his shirt, clutching it as she’s hugged.</p><p>Yeah. </p><p>It works for her too.</p>
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